A D R I A N
The storm is over. The reports are filed. The headlines have quieted, mostly.
Outside my window, Seraphine gleams as if none of it happened. Bluefire Lagoon sparkles under filtered sunlight. The new safety barricades look like design choices. Guests sip cocktails beside trauma-proof signage, smiling for photos that won’t include the near-drowning or the sabotage or the way we nearly lost control.
I let my pen rest on the glass desk. For once, my inbox is empty. No new crises. No more trucks missing, no more rogue doctors chasing smugglers down cliffs.
I should feel triumphant.
Instead, my jaw aches from how hard I’ve been clenching it.
I roll my shoulders and lean back, letting the silence of the suite hold me. The leather chair creaks. I close my eyes, breathe.
And t
